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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447913">and the universe said i love you (does it? why can't we?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rene_but_also_Blair/pseuds/Rene_but_also_Blair'>Rene_but_also_Blair</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dream team smp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anyways, Caring, Clay | Dream Introspection, Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Introspection, LMAO, Learning to care, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers for 'The End Poem', The End (Minecraft), anywho, because i simp, but then even now, gogy simps a bit, he a big man, i feel nothing for c!tommy, i need more of those, i was inspired after beating hardcore minecraft for the first time on xbox, idk why, im not babying Dream no more</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:22:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rene_but_also_Blair/pseuds/Rene_but_also_Blair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>there is more beyond the limits they see, but they seek answers unavailable...</p>
<p>until dream offers himself, fresh out of prison for this task, to complete it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>his life is on the line but-</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>there is still so much more the universe wants for him.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i></i><br/><b>and the universe loves him</b><br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Blue Entity, Clay | Dream &amp; Green Entity, Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) &amp; Everyone, Minor Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, like - Relationship, one small moment, very minor - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>252</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and the universe said i love you (does it? why can't we?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm probably making another fic later today LMAO, song inspired.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>as you can see i fucked this up and gave up /shrug</p>
<p> </p>
<p>oh well, L for me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>it is simultaneously surprising, yet completely unsurprising when dream offers to be the first speedrunner, person, or being <i>ever<i> to offer themselves up, to beat the enderdragon, and see what of the blue and green entities that only those who have beaten the enderdragon truly have seen.</i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>some came out remembering, mumbling like a mad man, others had been blessed with a quiet peace that settled over them to their dying days,</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>enlightenment and benightness swirling together like the way the portal swirled as you placed down your last eye.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>mcc, and those affiliated with dream sat around a screen in anticipation as the man sunk into the pools of nebulae, like he was coming home, strangely enough.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>this world. this enderdragon? would kill dream automatically if he faltered for a moment. but the blonde did not falter even when on half a heart and nearing death, bitterness and fear for who they used to know as the bright kindhearted man welled up in the souls he hurt and who hurt him.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>the fight was swift and deadly, dream choosing slimmer weapons, and more tricky and tactical strategies, just on the tipping line of recklessness- <i>careless for his own life, since he would be freed either way.</i></i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>with a swift slice, imperfectly perfect in it’s easy grace, filled with hours of exhaustion, was what brought it down, exploding loudly across the screen.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>they watched as purple and white flooded the screen like a supernova, yet not hurting dream at all, purple light embracing the figure, curling around every corner and wrinkle in dream’s clothing.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>everyone gathered felt their breath catch in their throat, a singular green eye, wide and so so empty, filled with the glow of his victory.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>the screen drowned in black, falling deeper into the unknown, where the entities lie in.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>eyes wide with shock, as dream is stripped of his disguise, the facade of a mask that they had seen for months with no escape from the eerie promises it brought.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>in its place was a replicate of the green eye they had seen earlier, illuminated by an unknown light, looking strangely like an eye of ender, freckles covered his face with a light scar on his cheeks, jaw, and one across his lip.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>black and white swirled like the deepest secrets in a galaxy, felt like the universe was right in front of their eyes-</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘I see the player you mean’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>those witnessing this, hear the voice ring out, an unidentifiable softness and adoration to it, unexplainable.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>because wasn’t dream deemed unloveable long ago?</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i><b>‘dream’</b></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>green eyes twist around, his body moving around like he was in the water, soaking into every part of him, making him feel strange… like he was tranquil and at ease.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>similar to his shock, this voice sounded proud and hearty, impressed and humbled at the same time.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<s>they ignored its likeness, along with the mix of the other entities voice sounded like the dream they used to know</s>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I-” dream choked, blanketed by a softness that quietly encouraged him to listen.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘yes. take care. it has reached a higher level now. it can read our thoughts’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>the idea of dream reaching a level high enough to read the minds of deities for all they knew… was frightening in a way that twisted and swirled under their skin like the star’s that threaded around dream like a knitted blanket.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<b><i>‘that doesn’t matter. it thinks we are part of the game.’</i></b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>‘game’ that one word… sent anticipation to him, more so than the underlying idea that they were part of something more, insignificance that made the guilt that weighed on him so hard, feel lighter.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
 <i>‘i like this player. it played well. it did not give up.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
 <i><b>‘it is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen’</b></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘that is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>‘a game’ that sentence brought sickening hope, that maybe nothing he does matters, and nothing is real and he doesn’t have to be real and bear everything because it is fake.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>maybe there is no point at all in existing.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>those who aren’t there experiencing the truth and pain that resonates through the tired soul, so young and so new to everything, hoping and dying and breaking down on everything the universe gives to it are confused, confused at the way dreams face lights up with dying hope, a plead of desperation obvious to even the most unobservant.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>what was he pleading for?</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>they watched as the voices echoed, seemingly becoming solely for dream, lights swirled like a kaleidoscope around dream, painting him in the colors of the world.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
george’s breath caught unbidden, as he saw the soft wonder shining in the younger- <i>when had he forgotten dream was young, so young</i>- and he wanted nothing but to see the old dream there.
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>but he was there all along.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>buried in pain and betrayal, called a tyrant as if it was a simple thing to label someone such.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>he was only 17. it was so easy to ignore the fact dream was a teenager too when the war began.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i><i>‘this player dreamed of sunlight and trees’</i>
</i></p><p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>warm laughter echoing around a house on a lake, the heat shimmering off of the water, reflecting sunlight and wind as nature rustled around them.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
 <i>‘of fire and water’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>boisterous and excitable, young and new, fire cupped in hands that were calloused for someone so young, a white bandana fluttering in the wind.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>uninterested and collected, older and understanding, ever-changing and unpredictable like water pooling and falling out of lazily cupped hands, thimble and dexterous, goggles adjusted on fluffy brown hair.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘it dreamed it created.’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>the smp, lands of new and old, scarred and battle-torn, new and fresh with untouched land.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘and it dreamed it destroyed’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>land he so carefully built upon promises and love, drowned in labels given but not wanted, arriving home but finding there was none.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘it dreamed it hunted, and was hunted’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>manhunts, what built his belief he was something more than what he was proclaimed to be, loud laughter and slippery tricks, the thrill of not knowing whether he would survive, the adrenaline addicting.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘it dreamed of shelter’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>that… that was still a dream unreachable now. because he gave up his home for what? to unite everyone? for power? because of a higher being?</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<s>he doesn’t remember. he doesn’t even know if a reason existed, or if he lashed out like a child forced to grow up and his struggles proclaimed invalid because his body aged </s>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>the words drifted around him emptily, spilling facts and meanings that fade into the back of his mind, imprinting despite his half dullness, of scripting worlds, incomprehensible words drowned in familiar cries of lanky black creatures, so beautifully horrifying.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>he is acknowledged, maybe, despite how minor, or how many times this has been repeated or said to someone else.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘-long dream of life, not the short dream of a game’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>his breath hitched, because he had always believed in his insignificance, powerful here, yet so so weak in the end and that always, the ends justified the means.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>maybe there is more to life than that, than proofs and facts that they don’t really matter, believing in inconsequence and that this was all a make-believe story.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>the next words-</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘does it know we love it? that the universe is kind?’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
that sentence, no matter how impersonal, or perhaps too personal it can be, it was overwhelming, the idea of being loved by something larger than life, something he can’t even begin to understand the starting of.
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>is the universe really kind?</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>he ponders, ignorant of the tears that run down his face, dripping into nothingness, the presence that settled like a comfortable hand now cradled him.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i><b>‘sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.’</b></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>maybe hearing the universe, was that ethereal feeling that felt too good for his poisoned blood, that caresses him like a motherly loving touch, reassuring him, when he did have a point for existence, for what he did and what he would do, that it would be worth it.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
sylvee, illumina, sparklez, krinios, so many outside the bundle the man on screen, who was <i>crying</i>, had kept close, those who he had touched with his caring and benevolent personality without spoiling their view of him with the pain in his soul that was so overbearing he coiled it up into a winded up spring and let it lose.
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>the way he swore to himself he wouldn’t.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>those who he held close, who saw the best, the worst, and everything in-between of him, yet still labeled him lost for good, saw a spark of a man who never stopped being a child, because he had to pause the time when he was one, to engage in a war that wasn’t asked for, nor justified.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘but there are times it is sad, in the long dream.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
dream curls tighter into himself, almost as if curling into his heart, into the beating warm organ that kept him alive and signified a deeper meaning into living, into the vitality that courses through his body <s>is it really vitality?</s> and makes him <i>feel</i>.
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>he wonders if, he stopped caring about emotions, stopped acknowledging it so he could be an unbreakable figure, maybe, maybe that’s why he became what he had embraced, ruining all the tattered ruins of his relationships.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>.<br/>
.<br/>
.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘it creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>the words echo, reverberating through the bones of the witnesses.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘and it takes its sad creation for reality’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>what a surreal thought those who weren’t adrift in a world of nothingness but filled with everything would never truly feel and understand just how true that sentence and all the implications are.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>wait- wait a minute-</i>
</p><hr/>
<p>
<span class="u">I apologize, but this truth in the sequence is far too long and deals with far more than you are prepared to hear…</span>
</p>
<p>
<span class="u">but I will allow you to examine the effects on the subject of the truths of the universe. since it is imperative you do.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
he feels truths and secrets, promises and the idea of <i>love</i>, and being loved explained in so many different ways, in a way he never understood the idea of true peace because he was never at peace with himself.
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<b><i>‘give it a body, again’</i></b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>dream panics because he doesn’t want to go back, he wants to be lulled in the gentleness where his sore throat does not have to scream, and his tired eyes does not have to see.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘yes. player…’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>the impersonal way of talking to him, of addressing his existence as if he didn’t even matter in this moment, despite the soft words of adoration from earlier-</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<b><i>‘use its name’</i></b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>‘dream.’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>and because they look at him, even without fully being for him, existing for his presence.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
he follows their instructions without hesitance, he breathes in, and it feels like the first time he’s ever really truly bothered to <i>breathe</i>, he feels the air, sweet and bitter, tangy and hot, feeling like he breathed in just a bare fraction of the universe in one small breath, and he can feel his limbs again, no longer just existing, but proving he exists, in a way, too.
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>his body floods with heat sorely needed, feeling the coolness of water, the sharpness of ice, the burn of lava and the stable instability in the earth he ran and walked on. he is being one, becoming something resembling a human and not the tyrant he forced himself to become, but he is also so much more, touched by the universe in a way, he doubts anyone will truly feel.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>the sorrow, in no longer being part of the universe is almost deafeningly loud in its cries throughout his body, but he is not Green nor Blue. he is dream and there are people he needs to rectify what he had done, even if it takes hundreds of years.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<s>because willingly or not he has that time now</s>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
he listens as the deities, father sun, mother moon, ancestral spirits, ghosts, <s>the green man</s>, gods, demons, angels… whatever word can be used to explain and label them in a way humanity can try and explain their existence in a way everyone's simple minds can comprehend.
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>there is no rhyme or rhythm or reason.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>they just are</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<s>and maybe he might be too</s>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>they watch as dream flickers through his emotions and reactions in confusing patterns, they don’t understand dreams reactions to them.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>they never understood dream, his motives, his reason, or if there even was any, because they left him behind long before he became the villain.</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>and they never greeted him into their arms again,</i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
maybe that is where it went wrong, or if their scapegoating of dream was justified in some way, but those are just delusions, because the inhumanity the deities have witnessed will not stand forever as dream is cradled and cared for and <i>blessed.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
<i>they listen as the stories of the stars and the lives they are living now are given roots, are told in an objective way they could never claim to be able to understand because of the bias and objective way they live, in the way they look at everything.
</i></p><p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
<i>and they wonder how much their skirmishes really matter, if the independence and the legacy they wanted was already soiled by their refusal to accept their misdeeds and pushing them off on someone else.
</i></p><p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>…</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
 <i><b>and the universe said it loved dream, when even his friends could not muster up the ability to do that anymore.</b></i>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>